" You Can Keep Going And Your Legs Might Hurt For A Week, Or You Can Quit And Your Mind Will Hurt For A Lifetime "

" If it’s hurting me, it’s killing them. " -Sebastian Kienle

High On Prolonged Self-Inflicted Pain

I’ve always derived some deep form of pleasure from pushing my body to its greatest limits. 4-minute planks ain’t got nothing on me. Running? It’s my paradise. The more sweat, the better it gets. What fascinates me the most about the human body is that after you power through the first couple layers of pain, your pain transforms itself into pleasure.

While I thought the little badass in me could push through it all, today, as I’ve taken my first swim in almost 2 years, my badassery didn’t float too well. As an attempt to give my injuries a rest from running, I’ve decided to trade my running shoes for my swimsuit. 10 minutes in, and I had to call it quits. Interestingly, recently I spoke with someone who’s an avid swimmer and he told me that cardio only accounts for 20% of your swimming skills. What’s the other 80% for?

Your technique. (Now that makes sense that I would barely pass my swimming lessons as a kidoo.) What can I say? Front crawl is just the ultimate death of me. As I was going through my very first front crawl lap this afternoon, I thought of dying. Fuck did it hurt. The masochist in me didn’t take an ounce of pleasure from that, I’ll tell you that.

The mere thought that ironman athletes do this fuckery for 3.8 km (under an hour for the very pros) is beyond insane to me. If any pro has some tips and tricks to share with the new swimbrina that I’m trying to become, your insights are more than welcome. Until then, I’ll stick with the runner’s high.